Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (2 page)

“Must be different where you’re from, Doc,” Ms. Bryant said as they settled down around the gurney. “What made you decide to work in a prison?”

“I like working with the underserved. And the government is paying off half of my student loans for being here.”
At least she could tell the truth about that part.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Ms. Bryant pulled out a granola bar from her coat pocket. “I never heard of that.”

“The feds want more doctors to work in public service jobs, so they assist with the loans,” Emma explained. “It’s a great help.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re here.” Ms. Bryant beamed. “We really need a new doctor now that Dr. Cassidy is retired.”

“And Dr. Ross is cutting back his hours, too. Something to do with his family,” Ms. Carter said before tossing her empty coffee cup in the nearby trashcan.

“Chop, chop. Get to work, ladies.” A tall, chubby bald man in a white coat bustled into the room, rubbing his hands together with waterless soap. “What have we here? Another OD?”

“Dr. Brown.” Ms. Bryant smiled. “Glad you’re here. Clinic wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Bad enough.” He grinned, turned Emma’s way, and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my God, you’re the new doctor, right? I totally forgot you were coming today.”

“It’s okay.” Dr. Brown looked young, his friendly ruddy face dominated by a large nose and an easy smile. She gave him a firm handshake. “Emma Edwards. Nice to meet you.”

“Julien Brown. How do you do?” His light-blue eyes smiled at her. “I’m the chief. I think you toured while I was on vacation.”

Mr. Roberts suddenly emitted a loud groan before falling back to sleep.

“What’s up with him?” Dr. Brown pointed his large shiny head toward the patient.

“Elderly inmate beat up by one of the staff here,” Emma said. “Vitals stable, getting fluids. Probably shot some heroin too.”

“Custody beat him up?”

“Custody?” Emma asked.

“The guards. That’s what they’re called here. You know, the men and women in green.”

“Oh. I’m not sure if Chambers is Custody, but the man is way out of control.”

“Chambers?” Dr. Brown asked with a quizzical expression.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Tall, rude brute. Really rough around the edges. You know him? Who’s his supervisor?”

A delicate cough came from the nurses’ corner. Dr. Brown’s face changed into a peculiar shade of red as he stared at the open entranceway.

No, it couldn’t be.
Emma groaned to herself. She turned around and sure enough, the big brute from earlier stood glowering at her from the doorway. Two men in green Custody uniforms flanked his side.

“I assume you two have met,” Dr. Brown said in a strangled voice.

“Dr. Edwards, nice to see you again.” A pair of familiar silver eyes flared at her. “If you have a complaint about me, call the governor.”

“Of California?” Emma asked, her spirits dwindling as fast as air from a popped balloon.

“Of course. What other state would we be talking about?” The man extended his hand. “Maxim Chambers. Your warden.”

Chapter 2

Emma closed her eyes and prayed it was all a dream. But alas, the gods were not on her side.
Of all the luck.
He had to be the warden. No wonder the guards kowtowed to him. Suddenly she found her tiny hand swallowed up in a warm paw. “Emma Edwards, nice to meet you,” she squeaked out.

Chambers shot her a nasty look before dropping her hand like a hot potato. “Who hired her?” he barked to Dr. Brown.

“Headquarters, when you were on vacation, sir. She’s very well qualified. Graduated the top of her class from UCLA.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have taken that many days off,” Chambers muttered, shaking his head. He strode toward the gurney and flicked a glance at the monitor. “Vitals are good. How’s the inmate? Ready for transfer yet?”

“No.” Emma hurried over. “He’s barely awake. He needs more time.”

“At this rate, he’ll be here all week.” The warden’s frown deepened. “I want him gone as soon as possible.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have hit him so hard,” Emma mumbled half to herself.

“Excuse me?” Chambers whipped his head toward her. “Do you know what this man did, Doc? Last year he pulled a knife on a nurse. Yesterday his heroin killed another inmate. And guess what? He tried to stab me today when I confronted him about it.”

Emma bit her lip.
Jesus Christ. How could she have been so fooled?
Roberts had seemed so harmless.

“Smith!” Chambers suddenly bellowed. “Where the hell are you?”

Poor Smith had just returned from a bathroom break and rushed over. “Here, sir.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to leave her alone with him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s wrong with you, Smith? Can’t you follow a simple order?” Chambers shook his head and cast his wolf-like silver eyes toward Emma. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was checking her out.
Fat chance of that
. The man probably thought her a nuisance and wanted her out of his sight as soon as possible. She shivered, dreading what he’d do next. He acted like a beast. A handsome beast, if you liked the tall, dark, menacing type. Thank goodness she was immune.

“Where’s your alarm, Doc?” Chambers finally ground out.

Dr. Brown stepped up and gave a placating smile. “Sorry, sir. I haven’t shown her how to get the alarm yet.”

“She needs a whistle, too.” Chambers swung his penetrating eyes back to her. “You can’t forget it. Ever. Use the whistle or press the alarm whenever you feel threatened by an inmate. That’s the fastest way to get help. Got it?”

“Yes.”
Jeez, he had a point, but did he have to be so rude and overbearing?

“Remember. Alarms and whistles on at all times, everyone. I know some of you are complaisant and don’t think you need it, but we work in a prison. Always be vigilant.” With that, Chambers nodded and exited the room with his two minions in tow.

“Whew.” Dr. Brown wiped a hand over his forehead. “That was a close one. I thought he’d never leave.”

“Is he always that bad?” Emma asked, finally breathing easier.

The two nurses got up from where they were sitting, looking surprisingly unfazed. “His bark is worse than his bite,” Ms. Carter said.

“All the staff respect him. He’s just strict,” Ms. Bryant added.

“And I heard something horrible happened to his family,” Ms. Carter said. “It made him really bitter.”

Suddenly the patient on the gurney swung himself up and began retching.

“Hey! Watch my new sneakers.” Ms. Bryant grabbed a pink basin and shoved it under Mr. Roberts’s mouth.

Emma took advantage of the patient’s upright position to get a good listen to his chest.
Good.
It was clear, no signs of aspiration. But the smell of vomit was overwhelming
.
Emma coughed and hastily stepped back. “Mr. Roberts, I’m going to give you something for your vomiting.”

After the intravenous Reglan, the patient settled down again and got transferred to the infirmary down the hall. Dr. Brown told her it was called the Outpatient Housing Unit, or OHU for short. It had twelve beds, mainly for patients needing observation or those requiring intravenous antibiotics or fluids.

He led Emma to room one, where a small twin bed lay wedged against the right wall. A thin, jaundiced man rested on top of it, his face gaunt and his mouth slightly open as he slept. A stale, sick patient smell permeated the room.

“This is Mr. Nash, metastatic liver cancer with cirrhosis. Not a candidate for surgery.”

“How long does he have?” Emma asked, knowing the prognosis couldn’t be good.

“Less than six months. We’re trying for compassionate release but I doubt he’ll get it.”

“Compassionate release?”

“Yes. The state’s trying to save money. Any terminally ill inmate can apply for release.”

“You don’t think he’ll get it?” The poor man looked like a skeleton, probably weighing no more than a hundred pounds at most.

“I doubt it. Depends on what crime he committed.”

“What did he do?”

“Don’t know and don’t really want to know.” Julien led her back to the main nursing station.

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Emma said. She knew what Sam did was justifiable. His sentence had been way too harsh. She needed to find him as soon as possible. Speaking of which, now seemed as good a time as any to start. “Dr. Brown?”

“Please call me Julien.” The chief stood next to an overgrown stack of charts at the center desk of the nursing station. A thin, middle-aged secretary with curly brown hair sat at the front desk, filing her fingernails, while a young nurse in pink scrubs was pulling up some medicine in a syringe. “This is Dr. Edwards. Lexi, our secretary and Ms. Macky, our RN,” he introduced the two women to Emma.

“Hi.” Emma pulled a chair next to Julien and sat down. She could feel her heart rate pick up and tried to calm down before she ruined everything. “Julien, how do you keep track of patients here?”

“We have the green paper charts for now. But electronic health records are going to be mandatory soon, so Sacramento is phasing in a new computer system,” Julien said. “It’s pretty good but we still depend on the paper charts a lot.”

“So how do you look up a patient?” Emma tugged at the pendant on her necklace, hoping her mom was looking down on her. She needed whatever help she could get.

“Usually by the CDC number…but you can do it by last name, too.” Julien logged on to the nearest computer and started punching in some numbers.

“CDC number?” Emma tried to contain her excitement. Any minute now, she might find out where Sam was.

“Yes. California Department of Corrections. R for rehabilitation if you want to use CDCR.” Julien rolled his eyes. “Not that there’s much rehab going on in here.”

“Okay…so you can look up by last name, too?” Emma asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Yes. Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled out the nearest chart. “This is Mr. Nash. See? Type his full name in and then a CDC number will pop up. Make sure you check it’s the right birthdate.”

“Thanks.” Emma clicked through Mr. Nash’s history and tried to ask the appropriate questions, but the pounding in her heart became stronger by the minute. Her ears were beginning to pound too. “Can I play with the computer for a while? I want to get familiar with the charting.”

“Sure.” Julien smiled. “I’ll be down the hall, rounding. Let me know if you need help on anything. We’ll go see the different clinics later.”

Emma blew out a deep breath and wiped her palm on her pants. She glanced to the left and then to the right. The nurse had left and the secretary was still typing. She lifted her fingers and clicked in “Sam Morris.”
Yes!
There were four listings, with only one that matched the right birthdate. The roaring in her ears escalated.
308-35U.
That was it. All those months of planning and there he was. She assumed the dorm number was 308; 35 must be the bed number. She wasn’t sure what the
U
stood for, but it didn’t matter. She was so close. Her mouth felt dry and she forced down some saliva.

“Ready?”

Emma jumped up and swung around, careful to block the computer screen. Julien stood behind her, his face in a half-smile. “Let’s go around and see the other clinics.”

“Sure.”
Darn. Her voice came out too high
. Emma cleared her throat and logged off the computer, repeating the dorm number in her mind several times.

“Oh, before I forget.” Julien pulled out a document from a nearby station. “This is a 7410 that you’ll have to fill out a lot. It’s an accommodation chrono.”

“Chrono?” Emma glanced at the form.

“Yes. The inmates need doctors’ orders to get a lot of stuff. You circle what they need. Cane, crutches, braces, whatever.” Julien pointed to the top right corner of the form. “But their favorite is a lower bunk. We don’t have enough bunks for everyone, so Custody doubles them up. Most of the inmates hate to be on top. So they finagle all sorts of reasons to get the bottom bunk.”

“What are the legit reasons?”

“Seizures, if they’re over sixty, or had surgery within six months, or broke a limb.” Julien handed her another paper. “Here’s the list of reasons. Don’t give them the chrono unless they qualify. Most of them make up a bunch of crap to try to get one. Back pain’s their favorite, even though they do tons of exercise every day.”

“Okay.” Emma looked at the paper and tried to get familiar with the top reasons.

Julien showed her some of the other commonly used sheets, and the rest of the morning passed in a blur learning about the prison. Unit 1 and 4 clinics were up the hill near the Eagle gate where she’d entered that morning. Units 2 and 3 were near the Urgent Care next to the infirmary down the hill. Julien informed her the prison covered almost one hundred acres, with health care facilities arranged both at the top and bottom of the hill.

After greeting the doctors of Unit 2, two very nice men named Dr. Tran and Dr. Parker, and saying hi to Dr. Pan of Unit 3 whom she’d already met last week, Emma walked up the hill with Julien to tour the other two clinics. She was surprised to see how free-flowing the inmates were. They mingled with the staff like regular people, distinguished only by their blue clothing.

“Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?” They passed a crowd of inmates hovering in front of a small bungalow.

“Yes. I always thought prisoners are locked up in cells,” Emma said.

“Only at the high security facilities. Albatross Prison is medium security. We’re open dorms with perimeter fencing.”

A couple of black cats crossed their path. “What’s up with them?” Emma pointed to the cats. “I saw a couple earlier. Do they run wild here?”

“Yup. Keeps down the rat population.” Julien laughed at her horrified gasp. “Just kidding. We don’t have rats, but we have a lot of cockroaches. And at least half a dozen raccoons.”

“Ugh.” One cat looked pretty plump as it darted out of their way. “They look pretty well fed. I don’t think they eat roaches, do they?”

“No way.” Julien laughed again. “There’re several food stations in the prison. Our cats don’t have to do any hunting at all.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Someone brings them food here?”

“Yes. The warden apparently has a soft spot for cats.” Julien grinned. “Custody brings them food and water regularly.”

“Interesting.”
That big, gruff man had a soft spot for animals? Maybe he just wasn’t a people person.
Several men in blue walked by carrying huge clear trash bags filled with ramen noodle packages, Twinkies, chips, and various other junk foods.

“What are they doing?” Emma asked.

“Buying their monthly canteen food.”

“Anybody can buy the food?”
Did Sam ever buy anything?
He used to love chips and Cup-o-Noodles.

“If they have money, they can buy it,” Julien said.

Something squeezed tight in Emma’s chest. Why had Sam refused all her offers of help? Why had he sent back her letters and money? He’d refused her visits, too. He’d been unhappy at first but had accepted his situation more by the second year of his incarceration. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. The last time they talked on the phone was six months ago. And she hadn’t heard from him since. He’d cut off all contact with her. She hadn’t even known he’d transferred from Delano to Albatross until she’d visited his first prison and found out about the transfer.

“What happens to the guys who don’t have enough money?” Emma asked. “Do they get enough food?”

“Twenty-nine hundred calories a day the state provides.” Julien rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. They get plenty of food. And free medical, mental, and dental care. Some of them don’t even want to parole. They have it pretty good here.”

Maybe prison life wasn’t that awful.
Still, she desperately wanted to confirm for herself that Sam was okay. Emma scanned the crowd of blue, hoping to see that familiar lanky form with the frizzy black hair and gentle brown eyes. Would Sam be mad to see her? He’d told her to be patient and wait for his parole date but how could she when she hadn’t heard from him in ages? She needed to make sure he was all right, needed it as much as the air she breathed.